Sorrow
by Teschool
Summary: Harry can't take it anymore. Oneshot. Contains character death.


_02/05/1998_

Harry moans in pain as he clutches his right shoulder, the students cheering at their victory over the Death Eaters. Hermione runs to him, shock and sorrow amongst the emotions that adorn her face. Ron, not far behind her, moves to follow her lead as she helps Harry up, her arm under his left shoulder.

He stops when he realises there's nothing on the other side for him to hold onto. Instead, he takes Hermione's place, supporting their friend as they walk back into the halls where the emergency medical bay is located.

Later that night, tears flow from Harry's eyes as he weeps softly and silently in his bed, reminiscing the loved ones he lost. Despite Madame Pomfrey's best efforts, his arm could not be reattached. Instead, a prosthetic now hangs from his right shoulder. While functional, it is unable to channel magic.

_06/08/1999_

Harry is beside himself with joy. His hard work and practise has enabled him to join the Auror force. While his right arm is still useless when it comes to casting, he is now relatively adept at spellcasting with his left hand. The only thing that could top that was his upcoming marriage to the love of his life, Ginny Weasley.

Harry walks down the aisle, a smile on his face as his arms are interlocked with that of the firey redhead he had fallen in love with. Vows are exchanged, and a deep kiss seals the bond. His close friends are seated near the front of the room, cheering him on, with Hermione and Ron in particular being very vocal. Reporters snap pictures of the event, eager to print the juicy details of his wedding. Harry can hardly care. His life is now perfect.

03/04/2009

Harry feels numb. The healers at Saint Mungo's are carting him towards the emergency room. They tell him it's going to be alright, that his hand will be perfectly fine. But he knows it won't be. The Sectumsempra that Antonin Dolohov had cast right before the aurors bombarded his body with stunners had managed to cut straight through his wrist. He curses himself for not having pushed for the execution of all the surviving Death Eaters all those years ago. If he had, the attack on Diagon Alley wouldn't have occured. Regret courses through his veins as he finally passes out.

_02/05/2018_

Harry looks down at the large pile of paperwork on his desk as he enters his office in the Auror department. He hates it, but he does it anyway. After all, what else is he supposed to do when he can't even use magic anymore?

When the table is finally clear, Harry dials Hermione's personal number. She now works at a firm that tries to integrate magic with technology, and the phone he uses, while crude, is one of the newer inventions put out that function. The phone rings as he awaits his old friend's answer.

"Hello, you have reached Hermione Granger. Unfortunately, if you're hearing this message, I am unavailable to speak with you at the moment. Please leave a voice mail, and thanks!"

Harry sighs. He has grown accustomed to the feeling of disappointment. Ron and Hermione were busy people, after all. But it would have been nice to hear from them, a drop of rain on a dry desert.

He phone calls his daughter, Lily next. She had grown into a rebellious teenager, a far cry from the sweet girl who had adored him so much.

"What is it, dad? I don't have time for this," Lily spits over the phone.

"I'm just calling to make sure you're safe, Lily. You know that."

"Well, maybe you should go and care about someone else then, dad! Could you just leave me alone for more than two days?"

The phone beeps, signalling that she has hung up.

Harry's heart grows heavy. Where had all the good times gone? It seemed as if the last time he was happy was decades ago. And maybe it was. But he peps himself up. After all, he still has Ginny, his loving wife. The thought of seeing her again momentarily lifts his spirits.

He walks over to the fireplace.

"Twelfth Grimmauld Place!"

Maybe he could surprise his wife by going home earlier that day.

The familiarity of his home immediately washes over Harry as he steps out of the floo. Pictures of him and Ginny hang from the wall, showcasing their happiness together. But something is different today.

The house is far too silent.

Harry, disturbed, walks through the house, starting with the ground floor. Ginny had retired from being a chaser a couple years ago, and now spent most her time at Grimmauld Place, having friends over. Harry doesn't mind it, it keeps a nice atmosphere especially after his children had left to pursue their interests.

He walks up the stairs and furrows his eyebrows. There is still no sound. Perhaps Ginny wasn't home?

His thoughts are shattered as he steps into the bedroom, and sees Ginny in bed with another man. No sound can be heard even as her face contorts, clearly moaning. A anti-listening ward has clearly been erected around the bed as its occupants engage in carnal activities.

Harry feels numb.

He walks back down the stairs without confronting his wife. Opening a drawer in the kitchen, he takes out a pistol. But it's not for the slut upstairs, nor the man accompanying her.

Harry steps into the floo one last time.

This time, he is at Godric's Hollow, hidden by a Fidelius charm in which he is the Secret Keeper. Hermione's doing, really. She was always an amazing witch and had readily agreed to his request all those years ago.

He brings a chair from the cottage and sets it down in front of his parent's graves. And for the final time, Harry weeps. He cries tears of sorrow and pain, the emotions bottled inside him erupting. Harry weeps at the injustice of the world, reminiscing all he has lost in his life.

Sniffing, he leans back on the chair, bringing the gun to his temple.

A single shot rings out through the clearing behind the cottage, followed by silence.

Godric's Hollow is now forgotten by the world.


End file.
